Summertime Sadness
by ratherbeblue
Summary: Just an exploration of the feelings that develop in the nostalgia of the summer after senior year for the South Park kids. Cryde and Bunny with background/side Stendy and Kyman


"I know it's just because we're all going off to college in a few months but I think I'll even miss him."

Clyde nodded towards Cartman where he was dangerously close to spilling his drink and trying to convince the rest of the party that Russia uses Vodka instead of water in their distribution systems.

"It's true, water just freezes in the winter and it's cheaper than heating the pipes."

"That's not fucking true, fatass!"

The rest of the party turned away as Kyle continued his rant, not even the nostalgia of the night enough to keep them engaged in a 13 year old argument.

"At least you recognize the reason for your lapse in judgment."

"C'mon Craig, are you really going to keep pretending you won't miss any of this?" Clyde turned his head to see if the alcohol had numbed Craig's system enough that he would receive a smile.

"I wouldn't be moving two-thousand miles away if I was going to miss this." He indicated the room with a flick of his empty cup.

Clyde pulled his attention back to the rest of the room. Token, Jimmy, and Tweek were re-filling their drinks by the snack table, and most of the girls were sitting together alternating between laughing and crying loudly. Wendy was sitting next to Stan on the couch, trying to distract him so his eyes don't wander towards the alcohol more than they already are. They haven't been together officially for years now and she's still trying to fix him.

Clyde shakes his head and hopes he's never that pathetic about someone. Speaking of pathetic, Cartman and Kyle are still at it. You'd think after this many years they'd have lost some of their steam, but here they are still arguing with each other with the same liveliness they had as kids, just with less gross humor and bigotry.

"I guess…" Clyde watched as Craig crumpled his cup in his hand and headed towards the door. Clyde followed and watched as he pushed the door open, "Hey, we're still on for tomorrow though right?"

Craig nodded before pulling the door closed behind him.

…

"You know everyone's over at Stan's house are you sure you don't want to go?"

"Yeah I'm sure, I like being with you way better anyways." Butters put down his next card, two of diamonds, 'darn!' Butters internally cursed as Kenny pulled an eight of hearts from his pile, winning both cards and the entire game.

Kenny's still technically on duty at the gas station where he works, but in a small town like South Park there's hardly anyone around to buy gas at 12:30 on a Wednesday night, much less anyone who's coming in to pay cash or buy something. So, instead of eagerly awaiting the next non-existent customer he's playing War with Butters, who insists on hanging around when he has the night shift alone.

Kenny arranges the cards into a new deck as he remembers how the first couple of times he tried to be sneaky about it. He'd come in around nine and pretend to be deciding between whatever kinds of cheap junk food they have stocked for a few hours before he left to wait in his car until sun up. Butters never even talked to him about it until Kenny threatened to call security on him for loitering, an empty threat of course, the only security at the gas station was the half-broken panic button behind the counter and a handgun in the storage closet. He couldn't help but take pity on the smaller boy when he stuttered out an apology and explanation that was strangely vigilante-like for someone who used to dress as a supervillain whose goal is to bring chaos and destruction to all.

But, because of all that they can at least keep each other company during those long nights.

"So what do you want to do?" Kenny raises an eyebrow at the boy across the counter while he puts the cards back in their box. After he sets them aside he leans across to look Butters in the eye.

"How long until the end of your shift?"

"I'm closing," Kenny said as he glanced up at the dusty clock, "so, I've got about half an hour."

"Huh, well geez I'm not sure, Ken, you choose." Butters rubbed his knuckles together, something he hadn't grown out of since he was young.

Kenny smiled at the familiar habits of his friend, he was one of the few he would miss when they all finally left for college. Speaking of…

"How about you tell me more about that fancy art school of yours."

Butters lit up at the mention of his dream school.

"Well you know how I told you about the um, work study they said I can do even if I stay at my Aunt's house?"

"Uh-huh…" Kenny took to doing a final restocking of Slurpee cups while Butters told him all about how amazing California was going to be and how he'd get enough money in scholarships for an almost free-ride. After a few minutes they were interrupted by a ring of the front door as someone walked in.

Kenny smirked at the familiar figure entering the small gas station.

"Sorry, sir we're actually closing right now."

"Cut the crap, McCormick, I need a new lighter." Craig's nasal voice filled the room as he walked up to the counter and set down the spare change from his pockets.

"Well in that case can I see some ID?"

"Fuck you."

"I'm flattered, but no thank you. You see I've got Butters here for that now." Kenny pulled him in with one arm and extended the other out, gesturing to an invisible horizon, "I've moved on to better things, greener pastures, Tucker."

Butters, who had been silent during all of this, turned red and tried to splutter out his denial. "No! I mean-We're not-and he...I-"

Craig ignored him, "I can practically hear the hearts breaking, now please do your job and sell me a lighter."

Kenny took his time counting out the $1.04 from the pile of change on the counter and slid the lighter across the counter into Craig's hand. "Thank you for your purchase, valued customer."

He said nothing as he left, purchase in hand, just gave them the standard Craig Tucker middle finger and let the door swing closed behind him.

**A/N: Thanks so much to the beautiful writers who inspired me to pick up the metaphorical pen again, my thought process of this was heavily inspired by appollos who wrote "The Gap Year" and Miaou Jones who writes the most beautiful Cryde fanfiction imaginable. Also s/o to my beta therandomtiger who notices the things I never do.**


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